The Name of Honor

by Susan Fanetti

  He turned and stalked away from his family, alive and dead.

  ~ 14 ~

  “Giada? Did you hear me?”

  Giada turned from the glass wall of her office and faced her assistant. “Sorry, Cait. I’ve got a lot on my mind today.”

  Caitlyn frowned. “You always have a lot on your mind. But you’re not often distracted, and you’ve been half gone all day. Are you feeling okay? If you need a sick day, say the word and I will disappear the rest of your appointments today and all of them tomorrow.”

  Was she feeling okay? No. And yes. And who the hell knew. She’d left Angie’s house before dawn and driven ninety miles home, showered, dressed, chugged coffee, and come to the office to face a full day of being a real estate developer while she waited to find out what the Sacco Family men intended to do.

  Had she made a mistake, leaving it to the capos to decide? That had been a calculation, not a knee-jerk decision, meaning to show her respect for the vows she hadn’t taken, hoping that giving them the vote would invest them in her leadership. But giving over control of her own fate was something she did very rarely, and never easily. Now she was left to wonder what others had decided about her future.

  Tommy’s future—the memory that remained of it—at least, was set. She’d gotten word from Marv in the middle of the night, right after she’d talked to Enzo, that the scene was clean and her brother was staged for the media as a back-alley mugging. So she was also waiting to get word from the Boston police, who would contact her rather than Fallon, she was sure, and to deal with the press fallout.

  But it was four o’clock in the afternoon, and she’d had no word from anyone. Every minute that passed, she was more sure she wouldn’t be alive in the morning. No, she was not okay.

  And yet, real fear couldn’t get traction in her mind or her heart; Angie Corti was taking up too much space in both places. What a silly woman she was, to have recollections of their hours together playing in 3D in her head, in Sensurround, over and over, while she waited for a death sentence. And yet, there he was, pulling her attention from everything else.

  She liked that man very much, and she loved what they did together. For all his brazen confidence, Giada didn’t think even he realized how layered he was. A giving lover, a loyal friend, an honorable man. And, she’d seen in tiny, erratic glimpses of insight, still a boy devoted to a mother he’d lost. In her own family, there was no familial connection like it, except perhaps between her and her uncle.

  She’d thought Angie would be a tool to strengthen her position—stooge was the word he’d used, though she’d never thought of it so harshly—but then she’d gotten to know him, and she hadn’t acted in that kind of self-interest since the night of Ilaria Marconi’s wedding reception. She’d been chasing desire rather than ambition with him; she’d wanted the way he made her feel. Those old girlish fantasies hadn’t been so dead after all.

  Her office phone rang before Giada could answer Caitlyn’s question. Her assistant answered, “Giada Sacco’s office,” and listened for a few seconds. “One moment, please.”

  She pressed the hold button and rested the handset on her shoulder. “It’s the front desk. There are two detectives here to see you.”

  Giada took a breath. Now, at least, things would move forward, in whatever direction they took. “Send them up.”

  ~oOo~

  A couple hours later, as she came out of the elevator into the underground parking garage, she saw the black Durango parked beside her Maserati. She didn’t miss a step, but strode forward.

  Bruno Giocali and Carl Trepani climbed out of the Durango and met her behind both vehicles. Their expressions were flat. Bruno’s arm was in a sling.

  “Boys.”

  “Giada,” Bruno said. “Will you come with us?”

  She considered his question—the phrasing of it, the tone in which it was said—and wondered whether that was a good sign. They hadn’t made a demand, hadn’t simply grabbed her and shoved her in the back of their SUV.

  “I will,” she said, and went with them. Carl opened the passenger-side back door, and she slid in.

  She didn’t ask where they were going; she knew. She sat quietly in the back seat and let them take her to her destiny.

  ~oOo~

  They brought her to another of Tommy’s pet properties, a billiard hall in the West End that had been a favorite haunt of their father’s as well, and took her in through the back and down into the cellar. The adrenaline coursing through her veins doubled as she saw that the cellar was nothing but concrete walls and floor, used for nothing but storage, and possibly Sacco Family wetwork.

  But she stayed steady and silent and walked through the bleak space, following Bruno and with Carl behind her.

  There were three grey steel doors in a row along the far wall. For all Giada knew, they were cells.

  She’d thought she knew all of Tommy’s business inside and out, but this cellar and what it might be used for was unknown to her. She could only guess, and none of her guesses was benign.

  Bruno led her to the door farthest to the left, which looked, from the orientation of the doors on the wall, like it might lead to the largest room. He knocked three times on the door and opened it without waiting for an answer. It opened out, Giada noticed, rather than in. More secure.

  He held the door for her, and her concerns eased slightly as she saw the room and crossed the threshold. It was a meeting room. Not fancy, but vastly more comfortable than she would have expected here, with a large oak table in the center, resting on a elaborate Persian rug, and surrounded by leather-clad captain’s chairs. A well-stocked bar took up the far corner, and the concrete walls were covered in framed posters of classic Italian films.

  This was Tommy’s inner sanctum.

  All the capos, the same men who’d been witness to Tommy’s death, sat at that oak table. They stood when Giada came into the room.

  She’d won.

  Bruno, Tommy’s consigliere, stood beside her. But Fabio, Tommy’s underboss and closest friend, stood at the table, at a seat just right of its empty head chair. He, too, had an arm in a sling.

  She read the situation and tempered the relief bursting in her chest: Bruno was with her, but Fabio was not. Had the vote not been unanimous?

  There had never been a vote like this in her family, but other families had faced situations in which a don died without an heir apparent, and in those cases, the new don had been elected—by unanimous vote. That was one of the traditions that had become incontrovertible rules in their world. The Conti Family had been in disarray for months because they could not come to a unanimous vote, and violence had begun to break out among them.

  Another incontrovertible rule was that women had no place at the table. Perhaps these men, in voting to put a woman at their head, had also flouted the unanimous vote.

  What would it mean to take control of a family without its full support?

  She was prepared to find out.

  At her side, Bruno spoke. He’d always been the spokesperson for Tommy’s men; he was by far the smartest and best educated among them.

  “Tommy was my friend from before we were in school. I loved him, and don’t like to speak ill of him. But I saw his faults. We all did. We saw the way our wallets thinned under his leadership. We saw respect for the family take a hit while he led us. His temper was bad, and he had no honor with women. He was a good friend, but he was a bad don. What happened last night, we agree that it was just. You did a thing that needed doing, Giada, and you saved his friends from having to face that ourselves. He was your brother, and we see the sacrifice you made to do what you did.”

  Giada’s only reaction was a single, slow nod, but her mind raced. She watched the men arrayed at the table—Carl had moved to take a place there, standing with the others—and tried to see her true allies from those who might begrudge her victory.

  Fabio was the only one letting his resistance show.

  Bruno continued, “There has
never been a woman at the head of any family in all the history of La Cosa Nostra. This has always been a world of men. But maybe history has limits. Maybe we’ll be stronger if we look ahead instead. Already, we work with women who lead other organizations, or politics or business. The world is changing. Maybe our world should, too. We all know what you’ve done for the family to keep us strong since your father’s death. Tommy had no head for business. In that regard, you’ve been in charge for years. Now you say you’ve forged an alliance with Don Pagano, and if that’s true, it’s powerful support when we’re weaker than we should be. But this is something new, without precedent, and we have concerns. Some think we should choose from this table before you to find our leader. But we see your strengths, and respect that you are a true Sacco. So we’ve agreed to these terms: we’ll give you the vows, and you will take the head of the family. But if Nick turns from you, or if you weaken us in any way, we will consider that a treason, and you will get the justice of a traitor. If those terms are acceptable to you, then we will bring you in. If not, we’ll take you home.”

  Giada knew that wasn’t true. If she turned from this room without agreeing to their terms, she’d be dead before she left the cellar.

  Or maybe not. Maybe her femaleness had that one benefit among these men: they wouldn’t kill her for killing Tommy. They would fold her act into their rubric of justice. As Bruno had said: she’d done something that needed doing.

  And she was valuable to them as the most significant earner of their legitimate income and the launderer of the rest.

  Maybe she could walk.

  But of course she could not.

  The idea that she was on probation, however, was fundamentally offensive, despite Bruno’s lawyerly speech about how they were changing history. Did they think she was going to say, Oh, okay, thank you for giving me an audition for a place in my own family, and I’m totally okay with you deciding my fate on a whim for the indefinite future?

  Fuck that. If she agreed to these terms, the capos would be in control, and that was not how a family like theirs worked. They were changing history, sure, but they were not reorganizing this fucking family. Her fucking family.

  She stepped forward, walked to the table, stood behind the head seat. “I appreciate Bruno’s speech, and I hear your terms. Here are mine: I gave you the respect of this day to talk amongst yourselves. But the question on the table was whether I would be don of this family, not whether I would be your figurehead. I have proved my worth to this family. I have proved my resolve. I am the only Sacco in this room. And I. Do not. Audition.”

  Setting her hands on the back of the chair that had been Tommy’s, and before that her father’s, and maybe her grandfather’s at the beginning, she leaned in. “The question on the table is this: I am don, or I am not. No conditions. No terms. If I am not, then kill me. But understand that Sacco Development is not connected to this world in any way but through me. If I die, this organization loses all of that legitimate earning—and all of that shield.”

  She gave them a moment to marinate in that knowledge and then continued, “If I leave this room alive but not don, then I will separate Sacco Development from what is left here. It’s already arranged. With a flick of a pen, I can reject all this and leave you standing in rubble. So the question, truly, is this: Am I don, or are you finished?”

  Thunderous silence filled the concrete room. The men stared at her, at each other, at Bruno still standing near the door. Giada stood straight and proud, waiting. Her heart pounded so hard her ribs ached, but she didn’t let it show.

  Finally, Bruno stepped up and cleared his throat. “Will you step out and give us a few minutes to talk, Giada?”

  “No,” she said. “You’ve had time to talk already. The whole day. Make your choice.”

  Another blast of silence, this one only a few seconds long before Bruno asked, “Will you take the vows?”

  “Of course I’ll take the vows.”

  He turned to the men. “I stand with Donna Sacco.”

  “Donna Sacco,” Carl echoed at once.

  The other men picked up the refrain, some quickly, others hesitating, until Fabio was the only voice left out. He looked around the table, but never made his way to her. With his eyes on the table itself, he finally muttered, “Donna Sacco.”

  She would have trouble with Fabio, that was clear. Tommy’s underboss would not be hers. Not that that had ever been a consideration.

  ~oOo~

  Enzo was at her place when she finally arrived home. When she opened the door, he rushed to her and folded her into his arms. “Oh, grazie Dio, piccolina! I was so worried!”

  “I’m okay, Zio.” She patted his back. “I’m okay.”

  He leaned back and examined her as if for injury, but he didn’t notice her hand. “And?”

  She lifted her hand, showed the bandage covering the wound from the blood oath. “And I have the seat. I took the vows.”

  “Cavalo! Truly?”

  “Truly. It’s done.”

  Grinning, he crushed her into another hug. “I knew you could do it! Giada, you’ve changed the world! We should celebrate. Champagne!”

  Giada had killed her brother the night before, and then she’d spent the rest of the night fucking Angie seven ways from Sunday. She’d spent this day in a snarl of anxious anticipation, and then she’d faced down a roomful of some of the most dangerous men in Massachusetts.

  She’d won, but she wasn’t in the mood to celebrate just yet. Fatigue had made her numb.

  She pried herself free of her uncle’s enthusiastic embrace and shed her coat and bag, dropping them where she usually did, on a nearby armchair. Then she kicked off her shoes. “Not tonight, Zio. I just need to sleep.”

  He gave his watch a quick check and frowned. It wasn’t yet nine o’clock. But when he met her eyes again, he was smiling. “Of course, piccolina. You’ve moved mountains today. Of course you’re tired.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll go.”

  “Thank you, Zio. We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah? Lunch?”

  “That’s perfect. Call me.”

  Giada gave him a warm hug and opened the front door.

  Angie stood right there.

  Dressed as if for work, in a custom suit and top coat, looking straight off the pages of GQ, he was poised to knock on her door. Her building had a doorman, but obviously that hadn’t stopped him.

  Her body responded to his presence at once, but it didn’t make sense that he was here. Giada wondered if he’d brought trouble.

  He saw Enzo and gave the older man a respectful nod as he offered his hand. “Enzo. Good to see you.”

  Enzo shook his hand, his gaze swinging back and forth between Giada and Angie. “Angie. Buonasera.” To Giada he muttered, “I should stay?”

  “No, Zio. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Frowning, her uncle left. Angie was still outside the door. They waited until Enzo was in the elevator and heading down, and then Giada asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I got word you were taken, and I was worried.”

  She tried to make that sentence make sense. “You got word I—you’re following me?”

  “Just today, since you called Nick. He wanted first sight on how your situation went down.”

  That was a sensible move, but it still pissed her off. “And he sent you to do it?” If Nick hated the thought of them together, why would he have sent Angie? Was it a test?

  “No—can I come in, G?”

  She stepped back and let him in. As soon as the door was closed he came to her, set his hand on her hip, and bent to kiss her. They had to talk, but right now, his presence was exactly what she needed to counteract the thrumming numbness and exhaustion. She opened her mouth to meet his, and they made out at her door until they were both breathless and woozy.

  He pulled back a little and smiled. “Buonasera, belladonna.”

  She plucked at the lapel of his cashmere coat. “Are you calling me beautiful woman or deadly nightsh
ade?”

  His smile became a sly grin. “I think they both work.”

  “What are you doing here, Angie?”

  “Funny to hear you asking that question for a change.”

  She cocked her head and regarded him steadily, waiting for an answer.

  “I told you. We had eyes on you today, and I got word from my guys you were taken. I—was worried.”

  “So you drove to Boston? To do what?”

  “I didn’t think it through that far. I was already in a mood, and needed to get away from home, but—I guess tonight it’s my turn to do something stupid and not know why.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. “They’re not on you now—I sent them back to the Cove when they checked in you were home. What happened? Not details, but—are you safe?”

  She’d been home ten minutes, tops. Angie had already been in Boston while his men were watching her. “Your men know you’re here?”

  “No. I laid low until they were gone. I’m not an amateur, G. Now—what the fuck happened?”

  “I’m safe. I won.” She showed him, too, her bandaged hand.

  He caught it gently and brushed his fingers over the white tape. “No shit? You’re in?”

  “I am.”

  “Well goddamn.” He grinned. “You are something else, you know that? A woman at the head of a family. Holy shit, G—you are gonna remake the whole damn world.”

  She’d been the architect of her own success. She’d celebrated taking her vow with the men she would lead. Her uncle had nearly cracked her ribs with his enthusiasm for what she’d accomplished. But it wasn’t until right now, standing at her door in Angie’s arms, that Giada began to feel it.

  She smiled. “I did it.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  Remembering why he was here, she focused there again. “Does Nick know you’re here?”

  His smile faded. “No. I need to tell him now, about us. Now you’re safe.”

  She’d asked him to wait until she had the seat. He had, and she did. But Fabio’s glare, his belligerent acquiescence, was only a few hours old. She wasn’t safe yet. Even with her cards on the table, knowing what they’d give up to deny her, Fabio could choose to cut off his nose rather than follow a woman. Tommy would have.